


Deo Favente

by LilacN



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Question of faith, Wings, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacN/pseuds/LilacN
Summary: Post-reveal:How is Chloe going to react to Lucifer being the actual Devil? And how is Lucifer going to deal with Chloe knowing the truth?





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, Lucifans! This is my very first fiction in years, so I hope you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> This is my version of the post-reveal, how I think our lovable characters could react. Feel free to leave a comment or kudo if you like it (or not).
> 
> May I notice that I am not a native english speaker, and I don't have any beta reader to help. So please, forgive me ;)

 

 

You would think such a day would tremble to begin.

_Within this American modernist architecture’s abomination, lonely souls are hurrying. Outside, the sun is making itself forgotten – its lasts rays are reflecting, here and there, and soon they disappear. Facing this daunting scenery, men keep doing their businesses. A couple of hands are shaking, many glasses are emptying. Some of them are cheerfully speaking about politics, while the others are finding a way to intellectualize human stupidity – throwing their logomachic logorrhea out. Yet, none of them could have imagined…_

_Stopping short those jolly festivities, many shots are heard. Heads are rising, worried gazes crossing._ _Then, the Silence._ _And nothing else. Nothing,_ _but_ _the distant and yet deafening alarm of police’ vehicles moving toward their direction. The creaking sound of tires, the incomprehensible words screamed by some men in uniform. Among them, Detective Daniel Espinoza, holding his gun tightly. His eyes are filled with anger, but still, only concern can be read on his face. Fear. Nonetheless, there again, he could not have imagined._

It was all true.

            ---

«  **…It’s all true…**  »

Once again, those words came out of her mouth - her brain animated by a reflexive reaction. At this exact moment, Chloe Decker was unable to empty her head. Fear usually made her thinking in a logical way. This type of terror, conspicuously, had had the opposite effect. Her mind was confused. She who, a few minutes ago, asked him to stop using these relentless metaphors. She who, from now on, had to face the facts. Since they had never been some. How could she had been that blind?

Her eyes, wide open, were only reflecting this same fear that paralyzed her. Or was it something else?

As if someone pushed the button “stop”, nothing had changed. Nothing had been altered. It looked like the scene had been frozen. Like a picture we would have painted. Despite this fragrance of bullet powder and blood, none of that was sad. In fact, it was the other way round. Her mind was empty now. At last, no thought had come to parasitize her gentle lull. Nothing but the dull and restful silence. A necessary time span when she was facing the dead body of the man she never loved. Facing the one her heart was devoted to. Plainly necessary.

 _Do not underestimate the Silence._ Hers was meaningful.

It was different for the other character of this imagery. No comfort was to be found in this eternity. This exact same silence was killing him slowly. Lucifer wanted to approach her – to tell her that he had no other choice than killing Caïn. Prove her he was not a monster. Or prove it to himself. However, whilst he was raising his hands, the meaning of Chloe’s words had become crystal clear. She was looking at his true face. The face he had wanted to show her many times. This face he dreamed to watch disappear from now on.

«  **Chloe… I am sorry, I… Good old Devil, remem…**  »

The end of his sentence was blocked in his throat. While pronouncing those words, he could not help but notice she was not listening to him. At least, she was not hearing him. He saw those thin tears that were beading down her cheeks. Also acknowledged the fact that she was petrified, literally, now she had seen the other side of the iceberg. His devil face.

And that broke his heart.

«  **Chloe…**  » he said, whispering. He felt a tear escaping, rolling along his own cheek. Lowering his hands, he noticed his skin was back to a human aesthetic. Still, he had no hope that it would change anything. She would henceforth see him as the monster he was. Even if he had always claimed proudly to be the Devil – even if she always had refused to believe him, it was more than certain that she was unable to accept it as a fact. Not now, nor never. Deep down, he always knew.

«  **Chloe!**  »

A crash was heard. Then a voice that had the effect to get the detective out of her torpor. That voice was her ex-husband’s. She turned her head toward where she thought she would see them appear, when a complaint of pain reminded her of Lucifer. At that very moment, she was looking at the man she used to know. This handsome man whose smile was suddenly missing – saddened by her lack of reaction, probably. Two gigantic wings had popped out of his back. Two beautiful appendages, dolefully bruised by hundreds of bullet impacts.

She would have liked to speak. Yet, based on her state of mind, it must had been concluded that she just could not. The Devil’s eyes had never left her - not a second. Nonetheless, He knew time had come.

A new crash. Louder this time. Once again, she turned her head and this time was able to see Daniel, followed by a bunch of her colleagues. His gun pointed in all directions, relief could be read on his face. Without even bothering to look at Marcus’ dead body, he came nearer to his ex-wife. Quickly, he noticed the impact on her bulletproof vest.

«  **God Chloe, are you ok?** » he asked worried, before telling her « **Ella called an ambulance, they’re going to be there soon** ». She was not really listening to him, her mind still lost, God alone knows where. Then, he asked this one question that violently made her getting back to reality. «  **Where is Lucifer?**  »

Many thoughts made their way to her mind. In a burst of absolute panic, she tried to pull herself together. The detective was actually watching the scene for the first time. The other cops doing their job, already. The henchmen’s corpses. And here, right in front of her, Marcus’ one. That monster who used her with impunity. Again, a few tears ran down her jowl. She stooped, catching a large feather between her fingers. Her lips were moving, inaudibly speaking the name of the man to whom it belonged. Though, he was nowhere to be found.

«  **Keys… I can’t find my keys!**  » she said whilst suddenly moving her hand against her jeans and jacket. Dan tried to catch her arms. It was obvious she was shocked and he could not likely let her go like this.

«  **Chloe, just calm down. You need to go to the hospital. You’ve been shot.**  »

There was too much noise, too much bustle around. She had to leave this place, as soon as possible. When Dan put his hands on her shoulders, in an attempt to ease her, she recoiled and stumbled against the marble steps. She did not want his help. Not now. So even before he could react, she straightened, stretching out her left hand.

«  **For God’ sake, Dan, give me your damn keys…**  »

«  **But…**  » was the only words which came out of his mouth. With or without his help, he knew she would go anyway. So he put the keys in her hand while grabbing her closer. «  **Call me later, ok?**  » She nodded before heading out of this mess.

 

\---

You would think such a day would tremble to begin. It might just be the perfect time to ask God for a favor.


	2. Litanies Of Satan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe-centered first chapter. Well, kind of. You can see that I'm a little obsessed with silence and descriptions...  
> Hope you are going to enjoy the read.
> 
> A huge THANK YOU to my lovely Beta Reader, Jade.

 

That night, Chloe Decker would have loved to talk to God. To join the palms of her hands together and ask Him for a favor. Nothing more than a favor. Perhaps he would have listened to her. Oh, if only she could have found the right words…

Never had she believed in any sort of superior entity. She was this very logical woman, committed to accept the fact that life was nothing more than a succession of consequences. Naturally, she had found herself praying before. Not often, but when her dad had been killed, she had been imploring the said God. _When in doubt – you never know._ However, faith was a very baffling little thing for her skeptical mind. A remaining mystery, which was fed by human fear.

Of that, she was convinced. At least, she had been.

She would have begged for this day to end. Truth be told, she would have preferred it to have never began. It was an endless nightmare. Everything she ever believed in was suddenly null and void. She secretly wished for all of this to be a nightmare. Yet, each time her eyes were looking at the large feather she was keeping between her fingers… it was what it came down to: everything was real. Moreover, now that her whole world was upside down, she needed to know the Truth.

The detective had wanted to go home first, lock herself up and drink alcohol until amnesia would have showed up. Simplistic solution, don’t you think? Undeniably. Yet, you have to understand. At this very moment, the whole universe was questionable to her. Every single person she had ever met. Every single person she had ever loved. Were they fooled just as she had been? Or were they just pretending? Those thoughts were too much to handle.

«  **How could you be that stupid?**  »

In the end, the only man she never gave credence to was the one who always had been honest with her. How ironic.

_Time had come to forget about when she was flouting gravity – without him, she was falling._

**\---**

 

**One hour ago.**

The unbearable and putrid fragrance stemming from the walls. Old planks were condemning the cracked glass of the basement window, overcast with mold. The antique plumbing’s mourning laments were creating a heartbreaking symphony within this bleak atmosphere. And here he was in the middle of the scene, the rendering angel, sadly depicted. Almost unconscious when any form of fear seemed to have disappeared – any form of reason. He was releasing himself of that sensitive soul, which had been grafted on him like a leech.

The well-esteemed Joseph Haydn’s forty-fifth symphony led off its _allegro_. Closed eyelids, he let the impetuous composition fathom up to his flesh. Every note, every chord. Lonely witness of all the horror harbored by this macabre quietude, Lucifer nurtured his asthenia. He enjoyed the sweet sensation of freedom. The delightful silence of his own consciousness. A pungent smell embalmed the room – the bothersome metallic perfume.

The thick smoke of a cigarette came out from between his lips. It was waltzing around, and then disappearing almost as swiftly. His eyes were still closed, his face impassive. A thin tear falling down his cheek was the only detail betraying his facade. As the slight shiver browsing his neck. Despite his efforts to withhold the paroxysmal agony, he could not remain still while confronting the pain. A groan arose from his throat. His fingers fended off the hollow shifts of his feathers, sank between the torn muscles and the keratin. Further and further.

 _Adagio._ His glance, which had until now been the color of ebony, lit up as a thousand flames. In the hollow of his blood soaked hand, stood a little bullet. The Devil examined it for a few seconds before letting it drop on the cold concrete floor. There it was, lying in a puddle of his own blood, with couples of its siblings. A nervous laugh was heard. He grabbed the bourbon bottle and emptied its contents. Suddenly weak, he stumbled. Why was he still bleeding? His wounds were healing at a far too slow pace.

«  **I truly hope you’re enjoying the show, Dad!** »

Here, in the Lux’ basement, he secretly wished for all of this to be a nightmare.

_Time had come to forget about when he was flouting gravity – without her, he was falling._

**\---**

_It is said that silence can be the greatest comfort. The most beautiful melody you’d be able to hear._

They were quite a few those who were praising it. In many situations, she did worship it herself. But whilst her mind was overwhelmed by all these new thoughts, it was nothing less than torture; the perennial source of a malaise that was growing deep inside her. So presumably, she would have preferred the dreadful sound of screams, the terrible clatter of objects breaking against the walls. His voice. His endless flow of words. His metaphors she would never consider as such anymore.

A smile. Yet, despite this irrational need to talk to him, she felt growing inside her a sudden anxiety. With each passing second, the panic crisis was getting closer and closer. Her mind was begging her just to run away and maybe let time do its work. Even if it would mean not seeing him again. In the end, what kind of reasonable person would let the Devil himself be part of their life?

It may have been a little too late to ask herself this question.

The elevator doors were opening while this unforeseen hesitation feeling kept poisoning her thoughts. Chloe’s gaze lost into emptiness. Her heart was beating at a rhythm that surpassed the understanding. Her body petrified. Once again. The lights of the Penthouse were on. Secretly, she had hoped it would not be. In one minute, she would face him. That was all she wanted since she left the crime scene. All she was scared of, at the same time.

«  **I tried to stop Caïn. This son of a…** »

Caïn. She already heard this name before. That was Mazikeen’s voice and Chloe knew whom she was talking about. Even though all this biblical stuff still sounded outlandish to her, Marcus was not the man she thought he was. More than a criminal, even more than a serial killer. She remembered what Lucifer told her; the first murderer. And to make matters worse, she had been a pawn to him. Nothing more but a naïve pawn.

«  **Lucifer?**  », another voice asked. Before she could even react, she heard footsteps heading in her direction. In less than a second, Linda was standing right in front of her. Before either of them could say anything, Mazikeen showed up. «  **Decker...? What are you doing here? Where is Lucifer?** ». Thus, she knew he was not there. At that very moment, the detective was lost between relief and concern.

«  **I don’t know**  », she answered in a whisper. Not that whispering was her intent but Chloe was thinking at the same time. Maybe it was not a good time for them to speak, however she needed to know he was not “dying” somewhere. Alone. Still, he could be hiding anywhere, she would not know where to find him. Because of how she reacted, because of her.

« **Look, I’m sorry you found out your ex-husband-to-be is a psycho but pull yourself together and...** »

Maze’ was literally shouting at her but before her sentence ended, her gaze turned away. The doctor had been suddenly putting a hand on her arm to catch her attention. The psychologist was still looking at the detective with some worried glance. As if she already knew what happened. «  **Maze… Maze! She KNOWS**  », she said while pointing her finger toward Chloe’s hand and more particularly toward what was inside.

«  **Right. Like… he never told her before.**  »

Of that, she was guilty. Nevertheless, coming from her ex-roommates mouth, she thought it was unfair to blame her. He was the Devil, for God’s sake! Wasn’t she allowed to consider him delusional in absence of solid proofs? It was not like he showed her his true face at some point. However, she did not want to argue, nor to fend off. She just did not have the strength anymore. So she stepped back and pushed the elevator button.

«  **Just...** **forget about it. I don’t even know why I’m here.**  »

Her mind was right. Amnesia would have been nice. Alcohol, very welcome.


End file.
